Tag: science fiction

Chicken

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Why did the chicken cross the road?
I’ve spent my life trying to find the answer. It hasn’t been easy, considering that the government won’t give me a grant to research the issue fully. However, thanks to some generous contributions from the Tyson Corporation and Bo Pilgrim, I think I have the answer once and for all.
No, it’s not just about getting to the other side. It’s more.
I need to hurry up, though. Chickens are being slaughtered across the planet because of bird flu, and there may not be any left by the time my research is complete.

Jury of my peers

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Technically, it doesn’t violate the Fifth Amendment, since it’s not really me up there on the stand. It’s only the holographic projection of a self-aware virtual copy.
It’s nothing more than a recording, the courts decided a year ago, so careless fools like me end up facing our shimmering dopplegangers when we get caught.
All I did was run a red light, and I’m getting a fine and points off my license.
The self-aware copy up there, on the other hand, gets a sentence of death.
Serves the damn traitor right for not sticking up for me… I mean himself.

They changed the stars

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Josie watched in horror as the stars moved around in the night sky.
They swirled and whirled around for a few seconds before spreading back out again.
Up there, for all to see, was a message:
“DEAR FRED,
YOU SUCK.
SIGNED,
MISSY.”
The stars stayed like that for a minute, then they swirled and whirled around again until they returned to their original positions in the heavens.
Josie’s phone rang. She almost missed the call.
“Did you see that?” asked Sheldon.
“Yes,” said Josie. “I wonder if Fred saw it.”
“Who’s Fred?” asked Sheldon.
“I dunno,” said Josie. “Ask Missy.”

Jonah

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Looking back, I guess it’s a bit disappointing that man never invented a faster than light star drive.
The Jonah, on the other hand, was just sitting there on Io, waiting for God knows how long.
It took a few years, but we eventually figured out how to use it. Even managed to make functional copies of it.
But we still haven’t figured out how it works or why it works. We just make it work.
That’s good enough for me, I think as I step into the space-whale’s mouth.
Take me to the Heavens. I’m late for a meeting.

Nanny

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Just as Nanny raised me, she raised you. And just as she raised you, she will raise your daughter.
Nanny has raised the children in our family for five centuries now.
Why would you refuse Nanny’s services? After all, part of her regimen is to instill the simple truth that Nanny must raise all generations of our family.
It has always been that way. It always will.
Why you would rebel against this simple thing can mean only one thing: you are not actually my daughter.
Tell me what you did with her, and I promise you won’t suffer much.

New Australia

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Prisons Ministry looked at Gate Technology and dreamt of a New Australia.
“The parallel universe is habitable,” said the Warden-General. “Just like Prehistoric Earth. Better there than wrecking civilization here.”
The test prisoners went through without problem, surviving the trip and living out their lives peacefully across the Gate.
Approval was given, and prisoners were shipped off by the hundreds.
Eventually the world treated the Gate as their social garbage disposal. Murders. Rapists. Thieves. Tax cheats. Jaywalkers.
Until one day, research determined that they actually were going into Prehistoric Earth.
And they were hunting Homo habilis for sport.
Civilization vanished.

Compass Rose

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My staff travels the globe, searching for plants to send back so I can add them to my garden.
Some years, they don’t find much. Other years, I can barely keep up with the acquisitions.
This past month, all I’ve received is a packet of seeds with the label “Compass Rose” on it.
No pH readings or sunlight profiles. Not even a soil sample.
My people know better. I can’t just plant blindly. Such fragile specimens they are, some don’t even survive shipping back to me.
I’ll plant them anyway. Neutral soil, light, and water. We’ll see what comes up.

Autochef

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Do you like to eat? I do, and there’s nothing quite like the joy of having an Autochef.
Self-cleaning.
Adaptive hypermenu technologies.
Self-sharpening knives.
Automated inventory control and ingredients ordering.
What’s not to like? I’ve had mine for a month, and it’s been absolutely amazing. I eat like a king, and yet thanks to Portion Control and the Dietary Module, I haven’t gained a pound.
It’s not perfect, though. The other night, some joker put a “Kiss The Chef” apron on the Autochef. I was drunk enough to do it, and they had to restart my heart after the shock.

Good morning, sunshine

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Scientists have yet to explain why the sun had a big smiley face on it yesterday.
Despite warnings telling people not to look directly at it, many people still tried. Lots of cases of blindness in the hospitals today.
Never mind the people medicated to the gills and strapped to their beds, completely freaked out at the idea that the sun had a smiley face on it.
There’s no smiley sun today. No sun at all, in fact.
By my watch, it’s already two hours late.
Perhaps if we all smile, it will show up before we freeze to death?

Orbital

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The problem with self-navigating colonies is they’ll burn through their thruster fuel for a better view, greater solar panel efficiency, or just out of sheer spite towards whomever they put in their shadow.
Orbital Control does its best to prevent collisions between rivals, but every now and then you hear of an atmospheric breach or hull scorching due to this ruthless game.
The worst incident was when Glass Palace Five got sideswiped by Harmony Farms three years ago. Both atmospheres failed, nobody survived.
So, what was that about leaving your helmet and tank at home, soldier?
Go get it, stupid.